Mr. Trample Fantasy
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Almost Trample to Flatt at Halloween Ball
🕑 Added 2022-10-27 17:57:27 +0000 UTCTwo doormats? $13.00
Duct tape? $3.00
Being happily trampled by fifteen different goddesses, all dressed in fetish gear and boots or high heels? Priceless!
This past Saturday I attended the Halloween Fetish and Fantasy Ball in Las Vegas, dressed as a human doormat. I used black duct tape to tape the ends of two thinner type doormats together, leaving a space for my head and shoulders. Then I hung them over my head, the duct “straps” hanging on my shoulders, like the old sign carriers, one doormat in front, one hanging down in back. Both mats had “Welcome” on them, so there was little doubt what they were.
I had several tequila shots to lower my inhibitions –this is absolutely essential – then the fun began. Two women, both heavier, and in their thirties (not much to look at, but both wearing spike heeled boots) and tight leather fetish gear, and very buzzed, walked up to me in the lobby and asked what I was. “I’m a doormat, of course…but you can call me Matt,” I said, laughing. “Oh, that is so perfect!” one woman exclaimed. “Let me take your picture.” She got her camera up and was about to snap right there, but I said, “Okay, let’s move off to the side.” I walked out of the traffic lanes and laid down without a word. The woman burst out laughing and said, “Oh my God, you want me to stand on you?!”
“ I thought you wanted a picture standing on the doormat?” I said, smiling, looking up at them.
“Oh, no, I just meant…”
“Oh, go ahead,” said her friend.
“I’d kill him! I weigh 160 and I’ve got these boots on!” she said, giving me a good look at her sharp heels. (There were several recurring themes all night long; the first was the woman’s desire to tell me exactly how much she weighed before she stepped on me with that weight. I think it may be reassuring to them to think if they’re light enough that they won’t hurt you by standing on you, they’re doing okay on weight control…THEN there are the opposite women, who know they’re totally hot, don’t worry about their weight and just want to hurt you!).
“Oh, I’ve got a rigid protector under my shirt,” I lied, taking a cue from a fiction story I wrote for the board a few weeks ago. “I don’t feel a thing. That’s why I made it that way.” (another line that changed everything for a lot of women).
“Oh, I didn’t know you wouldn’t feel it,” she said. “Okay, here I go!”
She placed her boot on my chest, took her friend’s arm to steady herself, and stepped on me with her full weight!
Her heels drove so deep into my chest, I thought I’d die! She was standing on my ribcage and my ribs collapsed beneath her. The mat was deformed beneath her heels and offered almost no protection. I had considered using rubber restaurant mats that have numerous holes in them to allow me to feel the spikes in my flesh directly, but got a little worried about the marks and a woman who was heavy set killing me with her heels. Now, I thanked my lucky stars I had gotten regular (albeit thin) mats.
“She looked down at me and said, doubtfully, “You’re not feeling this?”
I used all my remaining breath trying to keep my voice even, as I replied. “Not a thing!”
“’Cause it feels like my heels are sinking right into you a couple of inches!” I just smiled, not having enough breath to reply and the pain being so great that, if I did, I knew she would hop right off.
Thank god for women and cameras! Now her friend started fiddling with the camera, not knowing how to set it and whether she should use the flash or not. Now satisfied that she was not hurting me, the woman on my chest ignored me completely as she talked to her friend about the camera. "It's the silver button! No, the big silver one! Yeah, press that! You need to turn the flash on. No, the little green one…" she shifted her weight unconsciously from one heel to the other, grinding me beneath her and deforming the mat. People walked by with amused smiles, looking at me and laughing. "Want me to help you?” She asked her friend. " No I’m okay, I'll get it," Her friend said, in no particular hurry.
Finally, her friend was ready and snapped the picture. I don't know if the tears forming at the edges of my eyes will show up! The woman stepped off me still laughing and said “Thanks! That was a lot of fun. “Anytime!” I replied.
Already, my ribs felt as if they have been broken! They walked off without even looking back as I slowly got up groaning. They were laughing to themselves. It amazed me, how many people walked by and absolutely ignored me, laying there being stepped on. It was gonna be a good night!
I next made my way into the venue. The party was held on the main floor of a darkened sports arena. I felt a little like a gladiator in a coliseum full of cruel women! We’re talking maybe 6000 people, all in fetish garb, walking around. A band on the main stage, which also hosted burlesque acts. A separate stage with “fire dancers,” and a center stage on which volunteers were being lightly whipped, spanked and caged. The action here got much more intense as the evening wore on. And vendors upstairs, selling every manner of fetish clothing. Every single woman had on spikes or big black boots!
Things were really slow for a while, and I was beginning to doubt this was going to really work. But, as the crowd got drunker, I heard more and more women walk by exclaiming, “Hey, he’s a doormat!” and excited and amused tones.
It was almost a full hour later, when I was standing in the crowd drinking and I heard a woman behind me laugh, “Hey, a human doormat!” I turned around to two gorgeous friendly women just having a good time. Both wearing short short skirts and heels. I made small talk with them, then told them, “I’ve had about 20 women who took pictures standing on the doormat!” (make it impersonal…they weren’t standing on ME…they were just standing on the DOORMAT).
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to stand on you,” the short-haired cute one said, “I’d just want to use you for back rubs, and giving me baths and things like that!”
I laughed, not being drunk enough to push the issue yet. Luckily they were. After a couple of minutes, I had turned back around to watch the show, when one of the women, out of the blue said, “Hey, doormat! I’ve changed my mind…Lay down!”
I immediately fell to the ground on my back, “accidentally” putting my fingers under her friend’s heels as I laid down. Her friend stepped brutally on my third finger with her heel and stood on it for about thirty seconds before she moved it. She never knew. And it hurt like hell! The first girl took my hand to steady herself and immediately stepped up on my chest. She wasn’t too heavy, but she started dancing and bouncing, throwing her weight around. It was a total rush to see her literally dancing all over my chest, having the time of her life, while I lay beneath her.
She hopped off and her friend had that glint in her eye. (Another theme was that women everywhere get ‘that glint’ in their eyes when they see another woman trampling you. The only thing that stops them from asking themselves is their inhibition…that’s what alcohol is for!). I said, “Your turn….go ahead, step right up!” Her friend asked, “Are you sure?” I laughed and said it’s no big deal. Then she stepped up and did the same, thanking me profusely after she was done. Thanking ME profusely?!
I took a break to get nice and drunk after that, and when another girl asked, “Are you a doormat?” I just laid down in front of her. This girl put her boot on me, but wouldn’t step down, so she straddled me and danced over me, then she sat down full weight on my chest, with her back to me, while her girlfriend did the same to my legs. She bounced hard on my chest, such that I thought my ribs would crack! She was obviously drunk and had no inhibitions at all!
The trampling flood gates opened after that, as the crowd got drunker. I had just gotten up from the floor, when I saw this big goddess, at least six feet tall, with big bare legs, and with a very heavy-set frame, dressed in a white button down uniform shirt, and short black skirt, with a Nazi-like cap on, and carrying a riding crop. She had short-cropped black hair and was standing alone at the side of the floor, leaning against a railing. She was wearing really severe makeup and really high sharp fetish heels, not platforms, and stood about 6’5” in her heels. Her large heavy frame weighed in at about one ninety, I thought, but she was only about twenty two, so she looked heavy, but GOOD…and very cruel! She wasn’t just here having a good time. By her expression, she did this stuff for real! At the time, our eyes just locked and I smiled at her, but she just stared at me -- not looking away, and not smiling back.
I had turned away from her, a little uncomfortable, and was watching the fire dancers, when there was a heavy tap on my shoulders. I turned again and saw I was staring directly into the huge breasts of ‘Nazi-girl’ only inches in front of me – well into my personal space deliberately. She looked down at me, a serious expression on her face.
Hi,” I said. She didn’t say ‘hi.’ She just looked down at me square in the eyes, reached up and fingered the thin texture of the welcome mat, looked down at her heels, taking my eyes with hers, brought my eyes back up and said, “One chance. Yes…or no?” My mouth hung open, not knowing what to say, but knowing there would be no discussion. I hesitated. Up to now, the tramplings had all been in the spirit of fun. I could easily pass them off that way to the crowd as they walked by. But this would be different. She wouldn’t be laughing as she stood on me and that would make it obvious to the crowd that I was truly her doormat – there was a humiliating aspect to it.
Also, she would be, by far, the heaviest woman I’d ever had trample me…and in HEELS. I didn’t know what it would be like, but I knew I wouldn’t say ‘no.’ I was thinking of all the lies I’d had to tell other women about this just being a fun costume, or not feeling pain through the mat just to get them to trample me. All the lies she would have instantly seen through – because she KNEW. Because it was obvious she wanted to give pain as much as I wanted to receive it. Actually, as it turned out, she wanted to give pain even more than I wanted to receive it! I just whispered tentatively, “Yes.”
This girl held lightly onto the edge of the welcome mat, as she led me to the side where she had been standing. Her heels slammed heavily into the floor, as she swayed her ass when she walked. She was mesmerizing. At the edge of the floor, by a railing, she turned toward me and raised her eyebrows like ‘well?’. Without a word, I laid down. She towered above me, looking down at me. Then, also without a word, she placed her heavy leg on my chest and gave me a moment to appreciate how needle sharp her heels were and how big she was. And she was big and her heels WERE like needles! Then (and I think I gulped) she very slowly stepped up on my prone body, one stiletto heel on the center of my breastbone, and the other, squarely on my crotch. She seemed to know she had to give me a chance to deal with the weight.
Oh my god did it hurt! She was so unflaggingly heavy and her heels so sharp, I couldn’t contain my groans. I started groaning almost immediately and couldn’t stop. I was also coughing, trying to get my breath! My rib cage depressed and bent almost into my back! Nazi-girl didn’t even look down. She wasn’t even curious about how much pain she was causing – she didn’t even check on me when I coughed. I mean, not once! She’d done this to a man before – maybe lots of times! She just went back to drinking her drink, staring at the crowd, while standing on me with her enormous frame, crushing me completely under her high fashion fetish heels! People were walking by looking amused, some shaking their heads, having no idea the extreme pain I was in, and thinking we must have come together – that I must belong to her – since she was ignoring me like she would stand here all night. It’s rather frightening not knowing the woman and believing she’s not playing a game…that she really enjoys being this cruel; especially, since she’s completely ignoring you. After a while, I could even see her lips moving absent-mindedly, singing with the band. I realized…she REALLY HAD forgotten about me, or really did consider me of absolutely no consequence. Or the pain she was giving me.
I endured her standing on me for a good seven or eight minutes, her never looking down once; NOT ONCE! But I was now groaning audibly and my face showing the pain, as I swung it back and forth, trying to endure it. People were now walking by going, “Shit! Look at that guy! Geez…she’s really giving it to him!” One guy said to her, “Hey, you better check your doormat – he’s getting worn out!” She looked at him, expressionless, then back at the band. Not once at me.
Finally, I couldn’t take it any more. I coughed weakly, “Hey, um, my chest is really starting to hurt a bit.” She ignored me. “Um, I’m not kidding…I’m in some pain here. You’re really heavy.” She waited a moment, then, almost grudgingly, looked down, evaluated my facial expression, then shifted all her massive weight off my chest and directly onto the spike heel on my groin! When I let out a huge, “OOFF!” and started coughing continuously at the onslaught of her concentrated weight on my manhood, she smiled slightly, and said, seriously, “Be careful what you wish for…”, then went back to watching the crowd. I was in love with this girl! I’ve met very few true dominatrixes in my life, but she truly enjoyed this. Her heel was pressing almost through my groin, and I was gritting my teeth, trying to endure the pain for her. I had no idea when she would release me. She would shift her weight back to my chest, rocking back on her heels, occasionally repositioning them, but showed no sign of getting off anytime soon. I was coughing constantly now, and suffering greatly, but still she showed no sign of stepping off me, or of even caring. I had this picture of the party ending and the janitor finding me hours from now, dead with strange holes in me, and her doing her bills at home without the slightest care at what she’d done to me!
I was getting seriously worried. I couldn’t roll over, I couldn’t move her, and the one time I tried to grab her ankle when she shifter her weight really hard, she had picked up her foot in a practiced motion and tried to step on my hand with her heel. Like she’d done that before, too. I thought, if she stepped on my hand, she might just stand on it all night, too. And that would be far more than I could take. I yanked my hand away, just before she smashed it under her heel. I was coughing and groaning and thinking of calling for help…as humiliating as that would be; but, I didn’t think even that would work. The music was too loud to hear me, and she’d just tell any passerby to mind their own business, that I begged all the time. Maybe not, but I could see it happening.
Then, the wildest thing happened. This absolutely stunning, really athletic twenty-something, with muscular legs like she lived in a gym, wearing red metal spike heeled boots with all manner of silver buckles, walked up to the woman standing on me. She had an absolutely perfect athletic body! Her boots were right by my head. I could have licked them, but thought better of it. The girl was dwarfed by the height of Nazi-girl, standing on me and had to look way up at her. She was wearing a tight leather red devil fetish outfit, complete with tail and had beautiful tussled blond hair. She had a really tall boyfriend with her about 6’5”, and she probably stood about 5’11” in her boots. She said, kind of sheepishly (and drunkenly), “Okay. Okay…um…my boyfriend wanted me to ask…we were wondering…is there any way I could use your, um, doormat…so I could dance face to face with my boyfriend for the first time in my life? So I could be taller? I mean…would he do that?” “O my god,” I thought as Nazi-girl shifted her unbelievable weight again, causing me to groan. “If you don’t want to,” said the devil-girl, “it’s okay. We just thought…cause we saw other women standing on him…”
The nazi woman looked down at me, my teeth chattering now from the pain, and shrugged her shoulders. “Sure,” she said simply. And she stepped off me, holding her massive shoe over my face a moment too long, as if she might step directly on it. She thought better of it and stepped right beside my head, missing my ear by millimeters, and walked into the crowd. My ribs ached so much, I really need a break…but there was no way I could have gotten up. “Oh, thank you so much! Thank you, thank you, thank you!,” The girl said to me. “I can’t believe you’re gonna let me do this!”
“How can you take a girl your girlfriend’s size standing on you?!,” the devil girl said, looking down at me, hands on her hips, and referring to the Nazi girl. I couldn’t believe she was just talking to me like there was nothing going on when I wanted to ask her to call an ambulance! I tried to inflate my lungs and control my voice to keep it from cracking, though I wanted to roll around in pain and thank her for saving me. “Oh, the costume’s…reinforced…I don’t feel…any weight at all.” I had to catch my breath between every few words.
“Told ya,” her boyfriend said. “I knew it! No one could take that.”
“God, that’s wild! It looks like all you’re wearing is a thin little doormat!”, she replied.
“Oh, god, no,” I said, making an effort. “But thanks…it took me hours to…hide all the bracing under my shirt.” I thought how surreal it was that I’m laying on the floor of a stadium looking up at a stunningly beautiful girl in a leather devil outfit carrying on a conversation as she towers over me, getting up the courage to step on me…
“Oh…THAT’s how you did it! That’s so cool! I was worried about my boots on you! She hestitated, then just went for it. Ready?” she asked.
“Always,” I replied, looking at her cruel boots.
If the Nazi woman had on needle heels, they must have been made by the same fetish company as devil-girl’s. And these were metal! As if she read my mind, when she put her hard soled boot on my chest, she said, “I think my heels are gonna go right through that doormat!”
“You couldn’t puncture the doormat if you tried!” I egged her on.
“Ewe…a challenge!” she laughed, terrifying me.
Devil girl stepped right up on my stomach now, her athletic weight crushing the air out of me, and yelled down, “You okay?” She was a fantasy dream! “Can’t feel a thing!” I replied, aching. “Can’t feel this?” devil girl asked. She bounced up and down a little, then gave me a light little stomp with her boot. “No, really…I can’t even tell you’re up there!” “Oh, this is gonna be fun!” she said. “Can’t feel THIS?!” she yelled. She raised her boot until her knee was pointing straight at the sky, held it there, giving me a chance to stop her, and, as I prepared myself in terror, she drove it down in the cruelest, most vicious horrible stomp I’d ever felt -- straight into my stomach, laughing! I thought I’d die. There was this blinding flash of light and I lost my bearings for a moment, as my head bounced off the floor. I couldn’t believe the power of her stomping on me. I’d honestly never felt anything like it! It almost wasn’t human! I started sweating all over from the pain. I really hadn’t expected anything like that to happen. And talking…talking was just a far off dream now, as I tried desperately to breath again.
“Wow! I guess you really can’t feel anything!” She must have thoroughly believed I couldn’t feel anything because no way would anyone do that to another person! I managed to smile, but still couldn’t talk, and it was dim enough she probably didn’t see my reaction.
Now, she started dancing, looking at her boyfriend, her arms wrapped lazily around his neck, thoroughly convinced she was dancing on a hard shell of some kind (though I really don’t know how; at least on my stomach, she was sinking right in). She was stomping so hard, as she danced! The hundreds of impacts of her boots were raining down on me – thundering through my torso. Each stomp was a loud thump in my chest that seemed to bounce all over my insides over and over again.
Again, ignoring me completely, she was telling her boyfriend this was great and she was as tall as he was. Her perfect muscular legs were a vision as she towered over me; her sexy outfit torturing me. The hard stomping soles of her boots hurt like hell! She danced on me and drank for a few minutes, then she looked down at me and talked to me some more, asking how I thought up the costume, and if I’d ever been stepped on for real. I just smiled up at her and once moved my mouth like I was talking but she just couldn’t hear me over the music. I just needed to be visually convincing. Then she asked, “So…can I try?” I could only grunt, wondering what she meant. But then, she just rocked back onto her heels, and, as her and her boyfriend looked down and concentrated, watching the mat (and didn’t even look at my face), she lifted her left boot above my face, holding it there, putting her entire weight on the needle sharp point of the other metal spike, and began to twist it back and forth, grinding it into me, gritting her teeth as she stared at her heel.
It hurt horribly and I couldn’t believe this was happening to me! Then I sort of felt a little crack in the fiber of the mat, and instantly her heel penetrated the welcome mat and the needle heel drove mercilessly directly into my chest, her full weight still on the single spike heel, disappearing into the mat completely. I can’t believe she didn’t hear me cry out because I felt like half the stadium heard it! My whole body started shivering and I was clenching my fists just to endure the ripping pain of her spike heel.
“See?” devil-girl said. “Told you I could puncture it! These heels are sharp, man!” Then, to me, “I hope your bracing works! ‘Cuz, you’re fucked if it doesn’t!” I just smiled, trying to outwardly control the pain as I felt my skin tearing under my shirt!
Then, she did the same with the other heel. When her second heel punctured the mat and crushed in between two ribs, I thought I’d go out of my mind! She was laughing with her boyfriend while she tortured me under her spike-heeled boots with no restraint. Now, she was dancing mostly on the heels, but still stomping, trying to puncture the mat with them while she danced! And she was enjoying the attention of the crowd, as they gathered around to watch this absolutely hot woman dance provocatively on a man’s chest.
After another couple minutes, she asked if I wanted her to get off. “You must be getting bored!” she yelled down to me. I was a lot of things, but ‘bored’ wasn’t one of them! “He’s not bored! He’s enjoying the view!” her boyfriend said, referring to my being able to look up her short skirt. “Is that true?” she asked me, looking down from so far above. I tried to shrug my shoulders because I sure couldn’t talk. “Okay,” she laughed, “you enjoy the view!” ‘Think I betta dance now’!” She went back to dancing freely on me. She was twisting cruelly with her boots. Then, she stomped and shifted her weight, as I suffered. She didn’t care a bit! She was talking to her boyfriend about the after-hours party, seemingly forgetting I was beneath her, though I was feeling every single step in those red boots and watching her muscular legs reverberate above me! Occasionally, she would step through one of the holes she’d made and into my flesh again, her heel disappearing into the mat. When this happened, she’d continue to dance and the mat would move up and down, stuck to the shaft of her heel! So, her heel would crush into my chest over and over, penetrating me and she never knew. I was feeling what I would have felt if I’d bought a mat with holes in it. I thanked god I hadn’t…I never could have endured that and she would have seen the blood by now. I could feel I was bleeding a little, my black t-shirt becoming moist. I was gritting my teeth, suffering under this devil goddess, and they were talking nonchalantly about the next party! It was like a fantasy ‘hell’!
After an eternity, she stood still for a couple of minutes, finishing her drink, asked me if I wanted her to get off (I just looked at her and shook my head and she laughed). I had a little chance to recover. Then, she finally stepped off, saying “Thanks! That was wild! That was the highlight of the party for me!” Her boyfriend said, “Yeah, thanks dude! Do you want some help up?” I knew I couldn’t stand – but I was sortof able to talk by then – so, I just made a dismissive motion with my hand and said, haltingly, “I’m good.” Then, I had an afterthought…
“I wonder what it would feel like if I COULD feel it?” I said up to her.
“With these boots?! You wouldn’t even be alive right now! I weigh 130!” (I will never forget her absolutely electric sexy smile)!
“Tell ya what, step on my hand with your heel…see if I can take it!”
Oh, yes! She didn’t even hesitate! She put her metal stiletto heel on my hand and asked, “How much of my weight?”
“All of it!” I replied.
Devil-girl replied, “Remember you asked for it!” and just stepped on my hand with her full weight on her metal spike.
Now, I was free to scream! And, luckily, because I could never have endured the pain if I hadn’t! She smiled at my pain as I yelled through gritted teeth, trying to keep it down, but she didn’t get off right away.
“Had enough?” she asked.
“Okay, yes…yes, that’s good,” I moaned.
“You sure?” She kept her weight on the heel.
“Yes…please!”
“Ewe, he’s begging!” she laughed. Still, she didn’t step off.
Then her boyfriend said, “Okay, okay, you’ve done enough damage…” and she relented, picking up her heel, but stepping on my hand with the sole of her boot, then twisting it as she stepped off.
“Oh, so sorry!” she laughed playfully. Without any concern for what she’d just done, she said, “Seriously, thanks! Maybe I can dance on you more at ‘after-hours.’” I tried to laugh off the pain and said it was my pleasure. “Sorry dude! She’s crazy sometimes! Where’s your girlfriend?” her boyfriend asked.
“Oh, she’s around,” I said.
The couple walked off, and I felt under my mat the six or seven very deep heel marks she’d left in me. One is honestly like a serious hole, and not just a deep impression. I wondered if she’d find any blood on her heels later. I hurt like hell everywhere and decided I would need to do some serious drinking to endure and continue. Which, of course, I did.
In another half hour, I was somewhat recovered, but very sore. I took a break to go to the Men’s room and look at the twelve to fifteen really wicked, deep and bloody heel marks devil-girl had left in my chest. I had thought there were only about half that many until I got a look at my chest! Two were so deep, trickles of blood were oozing from them down my front. I couldn’t believe how much it hurt to touch them! But I was totally pumped about the rest of the night!
I was now more than buzzed enough to ask directly if someone would take my picture while standing on me and I wanted to go for multi-trample, which I have never experienced. There was a group of girls in a Little Bo Peep theme, with spike heels and white socks, and a guy with them dressed as a sheep (women after my own heart!) and, after I’d recovered a bit more, I just walked up and told them I’d like to get a picture with the four of them standing on the welcome mat. My camera wasn’t really working (separate story that could only happen to me), but I handed it to one of the guys with them anyway, as they happily obliged.
For them, all of them stepping on me was an exercise only in balance. No one considered their total weight (about 500 pounds), and no one asked if I could feel the crush. They just stepped on me for a picture. For anyone who’s never tried it, there needs to be a big caution here. The total weight of a group of girls on you is more overwhelming than you can possibly imagine! When the first girl stepped up, she was not too heavy, but her heels were like dull stakes through the mat. The weight of the second girl changed everything! My ribs crushed beneath them and I couldn’t breath well at all. When the third girl got up only a second later, I thought, “Oh god! I’m in real trouble! My ability to breathe stopped completely and I felt completely squashed into the floor. The fourth girl stepped squarely on my groin in her heels and the total weight was debilitating! My mouth hung open, as I stared up at an entire crowd of women in heels, all standing on me, ignoring me as they smiled and jostled for the camera! The other thing that was killing me was the constant shifting of all those heels around! The exquisite pain of eight different spikes constantly digging into different places on me, and my inability to control or even respond to all the new pain. Again, as before, the girls seemed oblivious to what they were doing to me! Not one looked down, except to reposition herself. And, almost totally divorced from the pain, was the overwhelming crushing force!
The minute or so it took to “take the picture” seemed like an eternity! One girl’s clear spike heel was stepping heavily on me right in front of my eyes! She was huge from my vantage point, and she was constantly shifting her weight, picking up and putting down her sharp spike, over and over as she leaned to one side or the other. Finally, the guy snapped the picture and they all stepped off me with no more rigmarole than if they’d posed on some steps, never giving me a second thought! One of the guys helped me up and handed me my camera. “Thanks,” I said. “No problem. Is it going to be in the magazine?” (still don’t know what he meant). “Yeah, absolutely,” I replied.
I was recovering, watching the band, when, as had happened all night, a beautiful girl, about five seven, wearing white high block elevator boots and a dress MADE ENTIRELY OUT OF WHITE ROPES (I think every woman in the free world should have one), said, “You’re a doormat?” “That’s me!” I replied. “So…if I needed to wipe my boots, I could stand on you?” Instantly I laid at her feet. She put her boot on me, then hesitated, so I reached up for her hand. She took it and stepped heavily on my stomach, then walked over me, grinning from ear to ear. Short but sweet! Then, she said, “Thank you! You’re such a good sport!” “My pleasure,” I replied.
After a while, as the room was thinning out, I found another smaller room, still filled with a couple hundred people, dancing to a DJ. I was walking around checking out the women, when the lights came up. The Ball was over. I should have been major depressed, but I was honestly really sore all over. I got in line to go out through the door, and just before I passed through it, I heard a girl’s voice behind me say, “Lie down, Matt!” She had to say it again before I realized she was talking to me! Without turning, I just dropped on my stomach in the doorway to let her walk over me. But she didn’t just walk over me! She stepped on my back in her heels and started bouncing and dancing! Heaven on Earth! She danced for a good minute, before her boyfriend told her there was a line forming behind her and she walked over me and out the door.
I got up and caught up with her, a tall brunette in a blue dress with sky blue, sharp three-inch heels. I sat down in front of her and said, “Give me a heel mark to remember you by!” (hey, we were drunk and I was desperate!) She looked at my hand and said, “You already have one!” seeing the wicked red heel mark devil-girl had given me. “I want a much deeper one!” I said. “You want pain? I give you pain!” she exclaimed matter-o-factly, and stepped on the center of my hand with her heel and walked over it and down the hall, looking back and laughing at the expression on my face! I was lovin’ life!
I thought the night was over, but found out I had a ways to go! Outside, leaning against a wall and talking to two guys were two of the hottest girls I’d seen! One had slipped off her shoes and was barefoot, the other had on boots. The guys were telling them they were from “L.A Magazine” and wanted some promotional shots of the girls in sexy poses (yeah, right). But, I walked up and blatantly said, as if I was part of their camera crew, “Yeah, we need to do a Mat Shot!” I laid down in front of them. One girl asked, “Are you really from a magazine?” And the guy, seeing his chance, said, “Of course! That’s why we dressed our buddy here in this promotional costume! We need to do a…a…”, “Mat shot!” I finished for him. “Yeah, a mat shot!”
The two girls shrugged, and one of them stepped on me in her heavy biker boots. “Put your foot on my face and act really cruel for the camera,” I said. (It’s amazing what you’ll say when you’re really drunk…but not half as amazing as what a girl will do). The girl placed her boot (and not a little of her weight) on my face, while she talked to the guy about his magazine. There was a cigarette stuck to her shoe bottom, which totally turned me on! She just stood on me for several minutes, until she finally remembered I was under her boots, and actually said, “Oh, I forgot about you!” and stepped off. Shouldn’t we be able to PURCHASE very drunk girls somewhere?!
I followed the two guys to two other girls, both absolute stunners, standing around the corner of the building in the parking lot. They were very drunk also. They were both very tall and wearing platform spike heels and vampire outfits, and me and the guys pulled the same routine in our newly discovered synergistic relationship. It turned out both were Las Vegas showgirls who lived a pretty wild partying life and had few reservations. This time worked even better, now that we were “rehearsed” and BOTH girls stepped on me in their spike heels for pictures! One girl kept asking, “Are you sure it doesn’t hurt? I, like, weigh 132!” “No, you’re fine,” I struggled to say. As before, the heels were killer when the girls got to talking to the guys, stepping all over me at random, ripping into me, grinding and crushing the air out of me painfully. And, as before, the guys kept them talking for the longest time (almost twenty minutes, this time) before they realized (or cared) they were still standing on me, digging their heels into me under their combined weight. At one point, the taller of the two girls (but she was lean and a bit lighter than her curvier friend), Katya put her heel directly on my chest just below my throat -- off the edge of the mat -- and stood on it, her bare foot in her heel only inches from my face, as she drilled the spike directly into my flesh without knowing it under her 125 pounds! As the conversation wound down, her friend finally stepped off me and drifted off with the two guys, talking about getting her in a magazine. Katya watched them walk away, and finally looked down at me and said, “Awww…do I have to get off now?”
“You’re so breathtaking, you can stay there as long as you like, if I can just look at you!” I replied.
She smiled, then considered a minute. “Are you tensing your stomach up to hold me?” she asked. (She was standing squarely on my stomach). I told her the truth, that I was, but I was okay. “No,” she said, “I mean…will you relax it so I sink into you? I really want to feel you squish beneath me! I’ve always wanted to squish someone!”
Oh my god! I had to marry this girl! I relaxed my stomach completely, and, sure enough, she sunk way deep into me as the air rushed out. She got this really big smile on her face, and asked, “Can I bounce?” The guys had wandered away with her friend, and Katya and I were having our own private moment. This was gonna be it for the night and I was going to go for the gold!
“Katya, the truth is, I love this! I want you to make holes in me with your heels! This is probably never going to happen to me again, so just move the mat, and just stomp the living shit out of me!”
“For real?!” she said, smiling even more, giving me encouragement.
“Yeah, for real! And don’t only do it to my stomach! Do it – Do it -- everywhere!” She looked down at me, a sly look on her face. “EVERY-where?!” she asked, her eyebrows raised. Oh my god! I thought again.
I locked eyes with her. “EVERYWHERE!”
Katya didn’t need any more encouragement. She caught the edge of the mat under her heel and just swept it aside, flopping it away, then stepped directly on my stomach with those killer heels. And Katya went to town! She started bouncing and stomping and jumping so hard, I thought the heels would make their marks in my BACK! She twisted and ground them into me and didn’t even pause when I groaned or yelped. “Having fun?!” she asked. “’Cuz I sure am!” At first, I tried to control the pain and grunting, but it got tougher and tougher and I let out a couple of really big “Ooof”’s right in a row. Katya didn’t even slow down. So, I just let it all out, groaning and moaning and grunting and letting her know what she was doing to me. And she seemed to at least not care…maybe even like it!
She spent about three full minutes absolutely destroying the flesh on my chest and stomach! I was sure she would break a rib! Then, she moved down to my groin and just trashed it, stepping full weight all over it with her heels. “I’m thinking of all my ex-boyfriends!” she yelled down to me, as she, over and over, squashed my manhood with her hard platform soles and her high heels.
I just couldn’t believe this was happening and I concentrated on enduring her brutality. At one point, I grabbed her ankle to soften her impacts, but she didn’t even slow down. She just let me hold her ankles while she stepped all over me! When I put my hand under her heel, she just stepped on it like it wasn’t there, giving me my third heel mark in my hand in one night! I was going to get Katya’s number, I was going to move to Las Vegas and I was going to settle down with her to be her personal pincushion for life…that was all there was to it!
Suddenly, her friend came running over absolutely horrified – I mean BESIDE HERSELF. “OH MY GOD!!! What are you doing to him?!! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry! She’s really drunk!” she said to me. “Are you all right? Oh my god!!!” She grabbed Katya and yanked her off of me and Katya threw her head back and laughed as loud as she could. “I’m getting back at all my boyfriends!” she said, stumbling into her friend.
Her friend just kept saying, “Oh my god! You were killing him!” I wanted so much to get Katya’s number, but her friend led her away and into a waiting limousine, horrified at what she’d done to me. “Do you know what you did?!” she said to her incredulous.
“He wanted me to,” I heard Katya say as she was led away. “Oh, right…he wanted you to stomp him to death!” her friend replied.
“He did! I swear! He told me to make holes in him!”
“Honestly, Katya…” I heard her friend say as they got into the Limo. She gave me a last apologetic, horrified look. Katya was still laughing, swearing I told her to do it and it was fun.
One of the guys came over, took one look at me and said, “Shit dude…she really fucked you up!” I looked up, my whole body reeling in pain, and asked, “So, are you really with a magazine?”
“Are you kiddin’? We thought that up half and hour ago…but it worked great! Well…maybe not so much for you!” I smiled. He asked if I wanted a hand up. “No, I said, I’m just gonna lay here a little while.” And that’s what I did. I laid there in the almost empty back parking lot…and dreamed.
